My mom has a motorcycle license. If you guys knew my mom you
would understand how insane that sentence is. I would say that the motorcycle
thing is a midlife crisis for her except that she already had her midlife
crisis about ten years ago (totally ruining my life in the process.) Is there a
term for a post midlife crisis? It’s too soon to be a (third) quarter life
crisis so I don’t know. I get why people like bikes and why they ride, but I’m
still haunted by the story about a distant cousin having all his skin scraped
off and lying in a ditch to die. You know who told me that story? My mom. My
dad is the bike type, and that was his midlife crisis. My mom on a bike is just…
a death wish. They call them donor cycles for a reason. Ugh. Sorry I needed to
vent this so that I won’t say it to her face because she’s too fragile for hate
form me. You ccould say that my inability to talk to my family is complicated. Like this song.
Peace.
Peace.
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